You (Season 2)

Creators: Greg Berlanti and Sera Gamble
Starring: Penn Badgley, Victoria Pedretti, Jenna Ortega, James Scully, Ambyr Childers, Carmela Zumbado, Robin Lord Taylor, Chris D'Elia, Charlie Barnett, Melanie Field, Danny Vasquez, Saffron Burrows, Magda Apanowicz, Elizabeth Lail
Original Airdate: 2019

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)
 

If anyone's looking for conclusive proof of Netflix's complete domination over the ailing network and cable TV platforms, go no further than the soapy thriller series You, which in 2018 aired its first season on Lifetime to moderate acclaim but few viewers. The show (loosely based on the novel "Hidden Bodies," by Caroline Kepnes) is narrated by a seemingly mild-mannered New York bookstore manager named Joe Goldberg (Penn Badgley) who stalks, then eventually dates aspiring writer Guinevere Beck (Elizabeth Lail), revealing himself to be a murdurous psychopath, using social media and technology to control and manipulate every move she makes.

Unlike most Lifetime shows,this really had something on its mind, turning the mirror on its audience and their relationships. If you're not a Joe, there's always that chance you could know one. And despite its flaws, it didn't let either gender off the hook. So how embarrassing must it have been as a network to cancel this series, only to have those very same unwatched episodes become a phenomenon on Netflix and find out the problem wasn't the show, but the thought of having to watch Lifetime. Well, anyone could have told you that.

Wisely, Netflix adopted You and produced a second season, even if the first ended in such a way that you wondered how it could possibly continue. And now that it's here, we find out that it couldn't, or at least not in its previous incarnation. It would have to be something entirely new, which it is, highlighting the stark differences between network and Netflix. Not only does it look better production-wise, it's better written and directed. It's more subversive. And it's funnier. But the biggest plus is a far richer tapestry of supporting characters, each of whom are intriguing enough to carry their own series. If it seems like the show's taking a place within an entirely different universe that's because it is, transplanting Joe into whole new environment and making him squirm, resulting in 10 episodes that really have no business being as ridiculously fun and addictive as they are.

Looking for a fresh start, Joe escapes his past as a bookstore owner in New York City and moves to Los Angeles, attempting to leave his violent tendencies and obsessive behavior back east, most notably his murder of ex-girlfriend, Beck, now a posthumously best-selling author. Assuming the identity of "Will Bettelheim," he gets a job at Anavrin, a trendy, Whole Foods-like grocery store. There he meets Love Quinn (Victoria Pedretti), an aspiring chef working in the kitchen whose family owns the store and has let her self-destructive twin brother Forty (James Scully), "manage" it while his screenwriting and directing career implodes.

Almost instantly smitten by Love, Joe fights every urge he has to get involved, but it isn't long before he's slipping back into his old patterns, stalking and monitoring her every move. He also attracts the unwanted attention of his new landlord, investigative journalist Delilah (Carmela Zumbado), who's immediately suspicious of his odd behavior, even as he forms a protective bond with her fifteen year old, movie-obsessed sister Ellie (Jenna Ortega). Having grown up without parents, she's been forced to grow up quickly and seems headed for disaster in her new internship with famous stand-up comedian, Henderson (Chris D'Elia). But Joe's biggest problem is the reappearance of his ex-girlfriend Candace (Ambyr Childers), who knows he killed Beck since it's what he tried to do to her. She arrives in L.A. threatening to expose him, while Joe struggles to keep his violent, sociopathic urges under control long enough to build a new life with Love. 

"Psychological thriller" isn't a label anyone would necessarily affix to You's first season, which isn't to say it wasn't highly effective and a huge step up from the myriad of men abusing women programming put forth by Lifetime. Besides the clever commentary on how social media and technology has influenced modern relationships, both its leads were depicted as heavily flawed and prone to some very poor life choices. Except only one was a stalker and murderer and the further showrunnner Sera Gamble got into Joe's head, we realized that nearly all of the efforts bring depth and complexity to the character came from Penn Badgley's performance rather than the writing. Clearly the show's villain, he played Joe with a hero complex, always thinking his actions were just and moral, self-rationalizing to no end.

Dexter at least killed serial killers, walking this tightrope that constantly put his friends and family in danger, before eventually growing into tired trope. Joe has no such "out" so Gamble wisely realized if we want to keep following this guy's story, he'd have to evolve into more than a creepy cyber stalker with an underground bookstore chamber. Transplanting him to L.A.provides that opportunity, with the big difference being that this time Joe really does try to overcome his worst impulses.

A good case could even be made that Joe may not be the most unstable character in a season full of them, spending most of these 10 episodes trying to do the right thing and succeeding maybe about half the time, and with a considerably lower body count than expected. This combined with the sheer hilarity of someone so introverted and straight-laced struggling to fit into an environment of over-the-top, narcissistic Californians creates a more intriguing dynamic this time around, allowing Badgely to do some of his best dramatic and dark, dryly comedic work

For every step Joe takes forward, he seems to take another two or three back. Despite stalking Love, he resists going all in for a relationship out of fear he'll fall back into his old habits. When he steals the real Will Bettelheim's (Robin Lord Taylor) identity and inherits all of his financial problems in the process, he practically goes out of his way to not only spare his life, but befriend him. Or at least as much as you could befriend someone you're holding captive in a storage facility. And much like he befriended young neighbor Paco in season one, he does the same again for Ellie, maintaining his savior complex of "rescuing" underprivileged troubled or neglected kids that remind him of himself.

The continued glimpses into Joe's childhood, this time primarily focusing on his relationship with his mother (Magda Apanowicz), paints an even clearer, but sad and disturbing picture, of how this sociopath came to be. But in his honest attempts to forge a real relationship with Love, he's forced to show some actual patience in dealing with her wildcard, black sheep brother, Forty, who's played with reckless abandon by a series-stealing James Scully. A recovering addict whose filmmaking dreams went awry, much of the season sees Joe trying to manage and contain his mercurial behavior, not mention stopping him from sabotaging his chances with Love. Besides Candace, Forty's Joe's biggest threat, if only due to his manic unpredictability and protectiveness of his sister.

Filling Elizabeth Lail's shoes wasn't going to be easy, as her performance was one of the show's highlights, but as Love, Hilary Duff lookalike Victoria Pendretti manages to put those potential comparisons to bed. She's a completely different character played in a totally unique way, with the actress getting us on her side immediately as we fear whether history will repeat itself as this young widow falls deeper for Joe. She also has a backstory that's as involving and as complicated as his, eventually figuring into the proceedings in a major way. If there's a star-making turn here, it's hers, as Pendretti brings a lot verve to a role that could have easily come off as silly in less capable hands. 

Of course, things will collapse for Joe. That's why we're here. With so many threats and obstacles coming from all angles and Candace looking to pin him to the wall for Beck's murder, it's only a matter of time before Love finds out his big secret. The polarizing twist that occurs in the back half of the season definitely changes the game, with Joe finally meeting his match, though likely not at all how he envisioned. Once the trigger is pulled on this reveal, the narrative does start to lose a little steam, if only because the antipication in getting there will always eclipse the payoff, no matter how big. But it makes sense, and potentially takes the show in a competely new direction for its third season, which was far from a guarantee when this started.

With its setting and criminal twists and turns, this more closely resembles the recently rebooted Veronica Mars on Hulu than anything that's aired on Lifetime. And with a far larger canvas on which to paint, it transcends its cable roots to evolve into a compelling, binge-worthy drama that enhances all that worked about its first season while eliminating a few of the elements that didn't. The reward can be felt in our investment in the show's protagonist, who exits the season as a far more complex and complicated character than before, and yet somehow even more messed up. No longer just a guilty pleasure, You is now simply a blast.

The Master

Director: Paul Thomas Anderson
Starring: Joaquin Phoenix, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Amy Adams, Jesse Plemons, Madison Beaty, Ambyr Childers, Laura Dern, Rami Malek
Running Time: 137 min.
Rating: R

★★★★ (out of ★★★★)

   **Spoiler Warning: The Following Review Reveals Plot Details**

"Processing" is a word frequently used throughout Paul Thomas Anderson's The Master, and that's fitting considering it also describes what many will be doing after having seen it. In the film, processing (or "auditing" in Scientology speak) is the battery of repetitive and abrasive questioning roaming seaman Freddie Quell (Joaquin Phoenix) endures at the hands of Lancaster Dodd (Philip Seymour Hoffman), the scientist and author behind a controversial movement called "The Cure." This scene is, if you forgive the pun, a master class in screen acting that holds you enraptured for its duration. It's best to get it out of the way now and state there's absolutely no question the Cure is based on Scientology and the character of Dodd is roughly if not directly, inspired by L. Ron Hubbard. There's no need to dwell on it because it only provides the jumping off point and might be the least important element of a film so challenging, frustrating and baffling you may as well skip the first viewing all together because it'll demand at least three.

Having seen the film only days ago, I'm still trying to make sense of what it all means and slowly coming to terms with the fact that that's what makes it unforgettable. The narrative is all over the place, the two lead characters experience no growth from beginning to end and you'll want to bang your head against a wall when it's over. And yet it's like no American film in recent memory and sticks out like a sore thumb amongst PTA's previous work, none of which has ever been known for its conventionality. But with this, he's really made a raw statement, and while it may take years to figure out what that statement is, he's one of the few filmmakers left who refuse to just give us the answers. With expectations sky high, it was certainly possible to predict the picture's greatness, but few could have guessed it would be this impenetrable.

Our first glimpse of Freddie Quell is under his helmet as World War II comes to an end. A mentally ill alcoholic prone to fits of spontaneous rage, he can't hold down a job as a department store photographer, resulting in a memorable scene early on where he verbally and physically abuses a married customer. It's worth mentioning he's married only because that fact seems to be what drives Freddie over the edge. His quest for women and a family is a reoccurring theme throughout the film and his burning need for human companionship provides the purpose for his existence and, as the film argues, ours.

After a drunken night, Freddie ends up as a stowaway on the ship of the enigmatic Lancaster Dodd, whose quasi-religious, philosophical movement explores past lives, time travel, processing and forms of hypnosis to return the human form to its perfect essence, thus eradicating war and disease. In this young man, Dodd immediately sees an animal that needs to not only be contained, but cured and senses he could be the perfect subject for his practices, which are coming under increased scrutiny. A friendship and father-son dynamic that develops is at times touching, volatile and pathetic in how both seem to fulfill a need in each other. Freddie, the animal, needs the stability and focus the Cure's teachings provide so he can empty his emotional baggage. Dodd secretly and desperately wants the freedom Freddie has but his movement is built entirely around suppressing those animalistic urges.  His pregnant wife Peggy (Amy Adams) feels Freddie is past help and his unpredictability is a detriment to their cause. She may be right, but in Dodd's mind, it's as much his mission to prove himself right as to rescue a lost soul.

As Freddie, Joaquin Phoenix gives a performance unlike any other we've seen, playing an unconventional, often unlikable protagonist who keeps you on edge every moment he's on the screen with his volatility. Besides having literally no idea what he'll do from one scene to the next or when he'll just completely lose it, his exaggerated movements and mannerisms more closely resemble an old man than a young seaman. Phoenix is pushing 40 yet is still somehow completely believable as being in his twenties, middle-aged or an old man. Here it seems he gets to play all three as the character's actual age remains one of the film's many mysteries.

Slouched over like a hunchback with his pants nearly pulled up to his chest, words frequently come out of his mouth as a drunken warble with his emotional instability physically manifesting itself to the point that he looks physically ill. It's not just a brilliant performance, but a dangerous one because he keeps you on edge and anxious the whole time you're watching, constantly in your face and taking on the persona of a wild animal. During one of Freddie's many meltdowns Dodd reminds him he's the only one who likes him, and he's right. Of all the kooky theories Dodd dispenses throughout, the one that strangely seems the most plausible is that these two men were destined to somehow find one other across time and space.

Hoffman infuses Dodd with a blustery charisma and Wellesian presence that belies a deeply insecure fraud you still can't help but admire for his dedication, if nothing else. His best scenes are when his practices are questioned, causing the usually calm, confident Master to briefly lose it before realizing that doing so is a betrayal of the Cure's methods, which are frequently attacked. If behind every great man is a woman then Dodd's is his wife Peggy, played by Amy Adams in the scariest performance of her career. "Terrifying" or "emotionless" aren't adjectives usually associated with her work but she has a scene (and if you've seen it you know EXACTLY which one) that's so shocking it instantly puts everything about their marriage and this movement in full perspective. It's clear who the real puppet master is, as we find out Freddie isn't the only man in the film controlled by the opposite sex. A perfectly cast Jesse Plemons (who really resembles a younger Hoffman) has only a few scenes as Dodd's son Val but they're revelatory, with one resulting in perhaps the film's most memorable line. Even he thinks his father's a fraud. Laura Dern has an extended cameo as a Cure follower who eventually starts asking to many questions for her own good, and Dodd's.  

Viewers are likely to take an issue with the fact that the narrative follows an unusual trajectory that seems to spit in the face of what we'd consider a conventional three-act structure. There's this expectation that the film is building toward some kind of climactic showdown between the Dodd and Freddie, similar to the final violent bowling alley scene between Daniel Plainview and preacher Eli Sunday in There Will Be Blood. But this isn't that kind of a relationship, and the more we want to see Freddie break away and become Dodd's nemesis, the further PTA seems to tug in the opposite direction. The battle taking place is within themselves and it each needs the other to help fight it. The movie builds and builds before fading away into the distance, leaving the viewer to consider the possibility that some people just might be incapable of change, hardwired to sabotage their own happiness.

At one point Dodd tells Freddie that if he figures out a way to live without a master to let the rest of the world know because it would truly be a first. Dodd's master is his wife, while Freddie also has a girl, Doris (Madison Beaty) he thinks is waiting for him back home. And by the time he actually realizes what he wants, it's gone. The film starts almost exactly where it begins, with Freddie adrift. All he wanted was a human connection, and his brief bond with Dodd provided him with it, or maybe just the illusion and comfort of one. Like most things in his life, he couldn't find the discipline to dedicate himself to it, though a closing scene (extremely reminiscent of A Clockwork Orange) suggests the Cure's practices had some kind of lasting impact, even as we're unsure of exactly what. The jury's out on whether there's any hope for this character, or whether anyone will ever be able to fully dissect what occurs in the last third of the picture. In a way, the movie never truly ends.

About as divisive and polarizing as it is, a movie theater just might be the best and also worst place to see The Master. Technically speaking, it demands to be seen on the big screen to absorb the visual grandeur and hear Jonny Greenwood's unmistakably sad and sublime score that's more than a few miles removed from his previous PTA collaboration on There Will Be Blood. Yet, it so complex and intellectually involving it's impossible to imagine seeing it with an audience and being as absorbed as you would be watching it alone without any external distractions.

Too often period pieces are prone to feeling to cold and distant with such a technical emphasis on capturing a certain era (in this case the post-war 50's) that the story's pathos is lost. What PTA does better than anyone, and takes to a whole new level here, is check both those boxes in creating an epic that's technically brilliant without sacrificing emotional depth. It doesn't feel like a museum piece to be admired and respected from arms length like so many others released this time of year, but instead a picture to dive into repeatedly, making new discoveries on each viewing.

With this effort PTA cements his status as the best American filmmaker working today, surpassing his closest competitor David Fincher, whose recent Dragon Tattoo amounted to little more than pulpy nonsense. Even those who despise this picture (and boy will there be) couldn't reasonably consider it a disappointment just on the basis of the discussion and analysis it inspires. It also features two of our greatest actors in Phoenix and Hoffman going head-to-head in what will no doubt years from now be looked at as the pinnacle of their work. It's difficult enough to find new releases that give us something we've never seen before but this does that while still having enough respect for its audience to let us unravel what that "something" is. Challenging beyond belief, what throws you off most about The Master is how it doesn't actually begin until after the final credits roll.